


Birds of a Feather

by icarus_chained



Category: Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: Ficlet, Fighter Pilots, Flying, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-22
Updated: 2014-01-22
Packaged: 2018-01-09 16:28:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1148194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icarus_chained/pseuds/icarus_chained
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony & Rhodey & flying. Jealousies, trade-offs and joys, with a friend by your side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birds of a Feather

**Author's Note:**

> A tiny fragment from my 'fic fragments' folder. I went through a phase of variations on Tony/Rhodey/flight, I think.

They staggered out of the de-armouring rigs in exhausted unison, giddy and battered and more than a little tipsy from the adrenalin crash.

"You know, I was always jealous of you," Tony murmured, staggering against Rhodey's shoulder, grinning ear to ear and smelling strongly of sweat and ozone and metal. "I've been jealous for _years_."

Rhodey stared at him, shifting automatically to wrap an arm around his shoulder and hold him up. "Jealous," he repeated. Blankly, because the hell? Of all possible emotions that _Tony Stark_ could point at him ...

"Yeah," Tony said, slinging his arm around Rhodey's shoulders in turn, tilting his head to grin wryly up at him, his spare hand swooping up like a plane in front of them. "I just got to build them. You got to _fly_ , you know?"

... Ah. Yeah, okay. Rhodey could see that. Because Tony wasn't good at discipline, and Tony wasn't good at trade-offs, and to fly the way Rhodey flew, you had to be good at those. You had to give away so much, to have that rush and that roar and that fall.

Even to fly as _Tony_ flew, turned out you had to trade a few things too.

"... Yeah," he said, softly. Leaning in to kiss the top of Tony's head, to close his eyes and smell the traces the armour'd left on them both, the sweat and the metal and the rush of joy. "But hey. You're flying _now_." 

For all it had cost and all they had traded ... they were flying now. Free-fall and skybreak, and two armours looping together. The crackle of voices in each other's ears, falling through the endless wheel of blue.

Whatever they'd paid, whatever they had to _keep_ paying, they were sure flying now.


End file.
